


Cold and Belief: both burn from within

by Smiley5494



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Antarctica Scene (Rise of the Guardians), Character Death, Hurt Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), Hurt No Comfort, POV Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), POV Second Person, Sad, Sad Ending, Unhappy Ending, Whump, and he should never have been blamed for wanting to know who he is, he is a child compared to the other guardians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29153556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smiley5494/pseuds/Smiley5494
Summary: He laughs and he waves his hand, and you are flying. It doesn’t feel like the freedom and control it usually does, and for a split second youforget, but instead, it feels like pain and abandonment. You are here because those who have sworn to protect children forget what it is to be lost, forget what it is to bealone.You are here because you wanted to know who you are, and where you belong, and they have never known the absence that being unseen brings.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	Cold and Belief: both burn from within

He looks you in the eye and you feel the hope within you shrivel up. He holds your staff—your lifeline, the source of your power, the source of your _life_ —in his hands and he smiles at you when he breaks it.

You can feel the staff snap in two—it burns both cold and incredibly hot and you can't help but curl in on yourself. Pitch is standing over you, and he laughs in the face of your pain.

It is cold—

Cold emanating from your chest where the phantom sensation of your staff still resides. You didn’t know it had been there until it was gone and you can’t help but wish you never knew.

It is cold—

Colder than you ever remember being. You don’t—no. You _can’t_ —remember a sensation like this, and the lack, the knowledge that you are missing something that you should know, that you are missing something vital to your existence.

It is cold—

and you are numb. Your limbs are heavy, and your heart is slow, and you know the truth you try to hide.

You have never felt the cold, but now it pricks painfully at your bare feet, and you fall to your knees.

Pitch is still there, _Pitch is still there_ , and he still has your staff, and you reach up with heavy, numb arms for the remnants of _you_ , and he laughs.

He laughs and he waves his hand, and you are flying. It doesn’t feel like the freedom and control it usually does, and for a split second you _forget_ , but instead, it feels like pain and abandonment. You are here because those who have sworn to protect children forget what it is to be lost, forget what it is to be _alone_.

You are here because you wanted to know who you are, and where you belong, and they have never known the absence that being unseen brings.

Belief is love.

but—

Belief is _also_ fear.

and—

Belief is power.

Pitch wants nothing more than to be believed in, nothing more than to be feared. You know this, and still, you know that you do not want that. You would give your life to be loved, but you would give anything to stop Pitch from extinguishing the joy in children’s eyes.

If you were believed in, if there was a single child that saw you and spoke your name, you think you might survive, but as it stands, there is no one.

No one sees you, no one ever has, and you curse the Man in the Moon for your existence. You are weak compared to those who had a child's belief to back them up, but you are also an unknown. The children will never have to mourn you, because to _them_ , you never existed.

You are invisible and untouchable to the senses of mortals, and you can do nothing but watch as they grow old and die, with you ever-young and unchanged.

Pitch’s laugh echoes in your ears and the canyon you lie in, and the pieces of your staff clatter in the depths, just out of reach.

You can feel the time you have left ticking down, and you can feel your breath shortening. The numbness of your limbs spread to your torso and your head hangs heavy.

What happens when a spirit dies?

What happens when _you_ die?

Does your body lie there, a limp remnant of what was once alive, or does it dissipate, returning to the universe from which it came?

Or, do you become like your staff, a powerless inanimate object, a placeholder for something which once brought life and joy?

You don’t know— _you don’t_ —and you can’t possibly know. But it grates on you, and the knowledge that you are afraid nearly overwhelms you.

Because that is what you are: _afraid_. You are afraid of the unknown, you are afraid of death.

You can feel the life within you faltering and the only thing that surprises you is how long it has taken.

Is it that when you are dying your perception of time is altered? Or, is it that it takes so long to die?

You long for the freedom of neutrality, you yearn for the anonymity that being unknown brings. Even if you would never be seen, at least you will be alive, and for a split second that’s all you can wish for—

It is getting harder to breathe.

Death comes faster now that it is accepted, and you can’t help but give in. Whatever happens, will be out of your control, and you feel nothing but relief and guilt over the fate of the world. It would not last forever, even in Pitch did win—he won before, in the dark ages, after all, and that didn’t last.

You breathe in.

As far as you can tell, Pitch is still there, standing atop the chasm walls watching you die. You are so young, only a few centuries as opposed to everyone else’s millennia, and you can’t help but curse at the unfairness. Why should you have to die, why should you?

You breathe out.

Sandy died, he died and you could do nothing to stop it. He died and was absorbed into Pitch—Pitch’s power, his nightmare sand—it all comes from Sandy; does that mean that Sandy’s essence lives on, merely corrupted?

You breathe out—

Your eyes slip closed—

You are numb, your limbs are too heavy to lift, and your head lulls to one side—

You breathe out—

and you don’t breath back in.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~and then pitch wins cause without jack, jamie stops believing and the guardians all lose~~
> 
> I'm sorry?
> 
> Also, this is my 70th fic?? can i just say this is phenomenal, i never thought i would get to this number.


End file.
